


Caboose Alone

by RenaRoo



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-13
Updated: 2016-02-26
Packaged: 2018-04-26 04:40:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 16,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4990585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RenaRoo/pseuds/RenaRoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[Post-Season 13 Finale] When the smoke cleared, when they finally made it back to their heroes, only one of the Reds and Blues was left standing. Caboose is all alone now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. No Goodbyes

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Based on goodluckdetective and toaradical‘s tumblr posts all about darkest timelines and the terribleness possible from the end of Season 13 came my little practice in absolute cruelty. This is just the first installment and… I’m really sorry for being so mean. I’ll find out why I am this way someday. Maybe.

“Wash. _Washington!”_

Carolina stopped short of the door, her hand still on the outside wall as she looked into the room. 

Like she had hoped, Wash was there, but he was doing the one thing she hadn’t been expecting him to be doing -- sleeping. Honest to god passed out asleep over his desk.

She waited a moment, counted the seconds between the raises of his shoulders as he breathed.

He had a spasm in his left hand -- an itchy trigger finger even after dropping unconscious from two weeks straight of not being caught asleep once. She hoped whatever fight he was in, Wash was winning.

Even seeing him like that, Carolina still almost considered waking him. Tearing him from his well deserved rest to get him where he was needed, push him to do what she couldn’t imagine anyone else being capable of.

It was that kind of streak of selfishness that made it very hard for Carolina to not hate herself in the weeks following the massacre on Charon.

With a long sigh, Carolina rubbed at her face and carefully, _carefully_ backed away from Washington’s room. She even went as far as to pad the external lock, shutting the door and putting the keypad on _Do Not Disturb_ for her old friend.

“Rest up, Wash,” she said mournfully before returning down the same hall.

She wasn’t sure _how_ she was going to tell the lieutenant that Agent Washington wasn’t coming to reprieve him anytime soon. And she only became more certain of that as she could hear the heavy sobbing growing louder and louder.

The New Republic lieutenant -- tan armored with orange accents, Bitters she thought she had heard Washington call him -- rounded on her as she neared. He seemed even more unreasonable than he had when he grabbed her mid-stride from the hallway.

Which, she fully admitted, took some serious balls.

“Did you get him?” he demanded.

“He’s occupied, I’m sorry,” Carolina responded stiffly, not liking that tone she was getting regardless of circumstances.

“Fuck, man, that’s not good enough!” Bitters snapped. “Andersmith hasn’t been able to leave for goddamn _hours_ and he needs to get some food and rest -- he _deserves_ that.”

“He’s not ordered to stay in there, he’s choosing to look out for someone else,” Carolina countered.

“No, that’s what _I’m_ doing,” Bitters seethed. “ _He_ was asked to not leave by his goddamn C.O. What kind of option does he have?”

“Caboose is _not_ in an officiating capacity right now,” Carolina reminded Bitters. “You should get one of your other commanding officers to order Andersmith away if he feels he needs it--”

“I _can’t,”_ Bitters snarled, the look in his eyes was deadly. “ _My_ C.O. is dead.”

Carolina glared at him, her fists tightening at her sides.

She didn’t have to be reminded of what they’d all lost.

All the same, she walked into the room, the sounds coming from Caboose almost too unbearable, and neared the bed where the large tan-and-blue lieutenant was sitting on the edge, rubbing circles carefully into the broad, wounded back of the last remaining Blue of Project Freelancer.

Andersmith looked up tiredly at Carolina, every bit as worn and aged as a man triple his age. It almost made Carolina’s own heart clench to see him in such a way.

“Andersmith, go,” Carolina near barked.

He hesitated before slowly rising to his feet -- a motion stopped as Caboose’s unbroken arm flailed wildly back until it clutched Andersmith’s forearm and didn’t let go.

“S-smith. Please?” Caboose whimpered.

Before Caboose was even done talking, Andersmith was beginning to ease back into position before Carolina made a point of shaking her head and stepping forward.

With both over sized soldiers on it already, there was hardly room for her. Instead, Carolina came to Caboose’s end, where he sat curled toward the corner and headboard, and lowered to her knees on the floor. She looked up at him.

“Caboose, your lieutenant has been here for a _very_ long time,” she informed him, searching his face for any reaction to the implication. “He’s very tired and hungry.”

Without saying anything, Caboose’s grip visibly tightened. His chin was quivering something fierce.

“He needs to go for a little while, rest up, then he can come back,” Carolina explained. “Doesn’t that sound... okay?”

Caboose looked her in the eye, tears still falling, when he shook his head once.

“Everyone has a reason to go,” he whispered. “I don’t want to say goodbyes.”

Carolina couldn’t handle this situation. It was beyond her depths -- she needed Wash here, to take care of Caboose like he had for every _second_ since they burst onto the falling Charon ship and found a scene straight from their worst fears imaginable.

She knew it wasn’t fair, she knew she was letting it slowly kill Wash, eat him up inside and out, but Carolina knew she was not a good person. Not for dealing with Caboose when his tears and pain came directly from the very things she was working to run away from.

But those words... that sentiment...

No one could have known them more to their core than Carolina did.

Slowly, she moved a hand to Caboose’s arm, squeezed the scarred flesh lightly, and made sure to meet his gaze when he looked to her.

“I don’t have a reason to go, Caboose,” she said softly. “I’m right here.”

He seemed to be searching her face for something, for _anything_ , but otherwise didn’t seem moved by her sentiment. At least, it did until he completely relinquished his grip on Andersmith’s arm, allowing the lieutenant to fully move from the bed.

In his heavily bandaged, broken body, Caboose couldn’t so much lunge as he could send himself tumbling in certain directions. And for Carolina that meant partially catching him as he began to slip from the bed.

She met him halfway, pushing them both back onto the mattress with all of her available strength, before allowing Caboose to curl completely around her.

Despite her hopes, he began to cry again, which left Carolina with only enough strength to wrap her arms under his and squeeze with all that she could.

It was still a very long road ahead, especially now that there was only three of them.


	2. An Apple a Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks to @goodluckdetective and @toaradical for the awesome idea! I’m really surprised and glad to see so many people interested in this idea. So thank you so much, guys!
> 
> Thanks for the feedback to @toaradical, @luaru, @secretlystephaniebrown, @buddahthebob, and Beawolfs_Pen on AO3 and tumblr!

To describe any one day more miserable than the other felt a bit factitious at that point. But _if_ Washington felt like taking a note in hyperbole, he would humor considering the _worst_ days the ones where Caboose had his checkups with Doctor Grey.

Caboose was a large man, nearly half a foot taller than Wash himself, who was already not short by most comparisons. Usually it was an asset that Caboose’s bulk added up to some useful strength, but not when Caboose wanted to do something, or worse when he _couldn’t_ do something.

Wash didn’t remember much after they had boarded the ship, some fleeting gunfire in the distance, shouting -- the images were there, but they were jumbled, scattered. They didn’t run smoothly like a movie reel, but rather were all assorted and mashed back together awkwardly. It was a nightmare -- a massacre -- in that room. The fighting had continued on even as the ship was crashing down and as best as they could estimate, the Reds and Blues had continued fighting even as the ship turned itself on its end.

It meant blood and gore had been everywhere -- on every wall, on the ceiling, over top the ones who had fallen. 

And then there was Caboose.

Doctor Grey estimated that the worst of Caboose’s injuries, oddly enough, were from the crash rather than from being shot (”Though he _is_ shot quite a few times,” she had amended at the incredulous looks Carolina and Wash had given her). That included the fractures in his arm, the contusion that even weeks later remained purple and searing weeks later, and the injured discs to his lower back.

Wash felt bad about those, though he didn’t _remember_ worsening them. 

They told him that the moment Caboose had been seen breathing among the bodies, Washington had nearly tore through the rest of Kimball’s soldiers to get to him and, despite the fact that Caboose outweighed him by nearly fifty pounds, threw his remaining soldier over his back and ran him out of the room to take him away from the carnage. 

It explained things about Wash’s neck pains, and also why Doctor Grey carried a certain frown directed toward him as she listed off the “worsened” condition of Caboose’s spine in the hospital. 

But, for once, Wash couldn’t latch onto any of those memories. 

He leaned back in the obnoxiously small plastic hair and wondered rather idly if he should even try to recount those memories when he heard the click of the door opening. 

Immediately, Wash got to his feet and turned to face Doctor Grey as she stepped out. 

“X-rays are done!” she nearly sang. “You can go get Caboose now, sorry for the wait. He was just the _tiniest bit_ cranky about moving his arm.”

Wash frowned. “I assumed,” he sighed. “We’ll be right in to look at the X-Rays, Doctor Grey--”

“Actually, you can’t _see_ X-Rays, silly,” she corrected for nearly the hundredth time, hands on her hips. “You _see_ radiographs. X-Rays are--”

“I know, Doctor Grey, I’ll get it right next time,” he lied with a wave of his hands before he rushed in. 

Caboose, against orders once more, was pushing himself up off the table, “Ow-ow-ow-owie-ow-ow.”

“Caboose,” Wash sighed, too exasperated to sound anything but resigned. He walked to Caboose’s side and wrapped one arm behind his shoulders. With leverage, Wash pulled Caboose up against him as easily as he could. 

“She’s such a mean lady,” Caboose glowered toward the windows. 

“Doctor Grey has actually been a very _nice_ lady to you, Caboose,” Wash corrected. “Take deep breaths.”

“She-she is _not!”_ Caboose sputtered out in one breath before taking Wash’s instructions and beginning to breathe in with deep gulps. “She. Touches. My. Arm!” he shouted between gulps.

“Did she touch your back?” Wash asked as he slowly released Caboose’s shoulders, watched to see how well he kept his weight, then ducked down to begin shifting the Blue’s legs over the edge. 

“ _AND_ she touched my back!” Caboose yelled at the top of his lungs.

“How about your head? Put your right foot down. Other right.”

Caboose released a series of flustered grunts as he eased onto his right foot on the floor. “No. Head is tomorrow. But she touched my tummy. _AND_ my bottom!” he shivered as Wash set his left foot on the floor as well. “Cold. It’s cold, Agent Washington.”

“I know, it’s the tile,” Wash sighed. He looked up, forcing a smile. “We still don’t know how you got shot there.”

“Oh, my bottom? Yeah, I don’t know,” Caboose responded casually. “I think Tucker did it.”

Immediately, Wash felt all the air leave his lungs. He screwed his eyes shut. His grip on Caboose’s good arm tightened and he nearly hung onto the man to keep himself from dropping. 

He _hated_ when Caboose did that -- when he worked himself up, got comfortable enough  that he could say things like everything was still fine, like things were still normal. 

Caboose had yet to catch the intent of those phrases, or was in denial about what they meant to begin with. And while Wash had been blessed with forgetting some truly awful things in the last few weeks, he couldn’t forget the report Kimball read, how they believed it was Tucker’s shield that had kept Caboose from the brunt of the waves of attack.

“Agent Washington?” 

Wash turned his head enough to see Doctor Grey in the doorway, holding a tablet with the radiographs on it. 

She seemed distinctly less chipper.

“Boo. Hiss,” Caboose mumbled at her.

“I thought you said you were keeping Caboose’s activity limited,” she said, a note of accusation in her voice that Wash just didn’t quite like.

“Restrained by Caboose standards, yes,” Wash responded, looking to the most difficult patient on Chorus.

“Agent Washington, that is simply _not_ good enough,” Doctor Grey said firmly. “I know I have been tremendously busy and haven’t been able to do dailies with Caboose. I’m sorry about that, I am -- between all our patient load, having to reconstruct this hospital, and everything Kimball needs a Federal representative for, I have been slacking. But I was _depending_ on you and Agent Carolina to keep Caboose immobile.”

Wash blinked at her before looking to Caboose. “Have... you... _seen_ Caboose?” he asked her rather critically.

“I’ve seen me,” Caboose replied.

“With his injuries and the severity of those breaks, all unnecessary movement is worsening the damage,” she responded, ignoring Caboose. 

“I understand, Doctor Grey. I’ll do better,” he sighed.

Doctor Grey shook her head. “Maybe that’ll help with his back still, but Agent Washington, I’ve _shown_ you how bad the breaks are in his arm,” she reminded him, turning the tablet around for them both to see the fractured images. “They’re not healing fast enough, and beyond that even in their current cast set they’re mending wrong.”

“Then what do we do to fix that, Doctor Grey?” Wash asked seriously.

She frowned, eyes darting toward Caboose before returning to Washington. “Another round of surgery, this time to use an internal splint and set the bones.”

Caboose visibly clenched. His good hand scrambled for one of Washington’s to squeeze, which Wash gave him readily. 

“Doctor Grey, you can’t be serious. _Another_ procedure? And this method... it’s positively archaic,” Wash begged. “Caboose doesn’t like going into surgery.”

“It’s scary,” Caboose muttered.

“I’m afraid our choices here are limited,” Doctor Grey responded. “It’s old, but it’s the safest procedure I can do. Unless you’re able to get the UNSC supply freighters and aid relief here with actually _useful_ materials,” she said bitterly. 

“I don’t want to” Caboose whined. 

“We’ll talk about it later, Doctor Grey,” Wash said, letting Caboose draw him into a hug. 

“And when are you coming in for _your_ checkup, Agent Washington?” Doctor Grey demanded. “You’ve avoided me as much as possible and I’m about to hold you down for a session if need be.”

“Later, Doctor,” Wash said, nodding to Caboose. “Please.”

She stared at him expectantly before closing her tablet and strolling out of the X-Ray room, perhaps to continue running the hospital. 

Caboose nuzzled Wash’s neck, still quivering at the prospect of another surgery. “Agent Washington?” he muttered.

“What is it, Caboose?” Wash asked softly.

“Are you hurt? Is that why Doctor Mean-Lady wants to see you and pull your arm, too?” he asked.

“No, Caboose,” Wash responded, shaking his head. “Not... just not outside. Doctor Grey is several kinds of doctor.”

“And all kinds of scary.”

“Can be, Caboose. Can be.”


	3. Everyone Has Nightmares

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks to @goodluckdetective and @toaradical for the awesome idea! I would say I’m still sorry about the sadness I’m spreading, but I probably shouldn’t lie about how much I’m enjoying being horrible XD It’s my calling card.
> 
> Thanks for the feedback to @secretlystephaniebrown, @toaradical, @ephemeraltea, @buddahthebob, @goodluckdetective, @mo-and-mu, Beowulfs_Pen, CremePhresh, Yin, eggstasy, and meirelle on AO3 and tumblr!

"I can’t sleep.”

“I know, Caboose.”

“I don’t want you to go.”

“I know, Caboose.”

Agent Washington didn’t lie to Caboose. There was a tiredness to his eyes, dark blue rings surrounding them. And when Caboose settled in his own bed, Agent Washington took to the seat nearby.

Caboose watched quietly, cautiously, as Agent Washington’s eyes began to slide close, as his chin came to rest closer and closer to his chest. 

One thing was certain, and that was that Agent Washington was a very, very tired man. 

And Caboose was tired, too. He was tired of a _lot_ of things. But one of the things he was the most tired of was his friends falling asleep around him and not waiting for him to go to sleep first. 

Church did it. Then the Reds did it. Then Tucker did it, too. 

He glared as Agent Washington’s head dropped forward, his chest rising softly. 

Then Caboose reached forward and yanked on Washington’s hand. 

The former Freelancer’s eyes fluttered awake, and in a moment he seemed ready to lunge out of his chair, eyes blown open wide before settling on Caboose. His muscles didn’t tense any less, but he dropped further back into his chair. 

“Do you need me to read something, Caboose?” Wash asked tiredly.

“Yes,” Caboose said without hesitation. “Thank you, Agent Washington.”

He laid back, staring at the ceiling as he could hear the creak of Agent Washington’s chair, the fumbling of him gathering the tablet from the desk, and then resting back in spot. 

“Freckles AI Log Number Two-Thirty-Three,” Agent Washington read off. His voice dropped into a lazy, forgiving tone, very procedural, as he continued on, reading off the recordings of Caboose’s favorite dog in the whole wide world.

They were what Caboose always preferred to listen to at night, even if not everything made sense ore even if they didn’t accurately remind Caboose of the incidents being documented, they felt like Freckles’ letters to him. 

It wasn’t the only letter left to him, of course, but the other one, the one from his bestest best friend, was only for him to hear. He did not play it for Washington or Carolina or _anyone._ Not even Andersmith. It was just for Caboose.

But he had only heard it once.

“Temperature was thirty-seven degrees--”

“Agent Washington,” Caboose interrupted, turning his head to face the Blue leader more directly.

Blinking a few times, Washington looked back up to Caboose. “Yes?”

“Can I see Delta now?”

Washington took a deep breath, eyes shutting at that question. He was shaking his head long before he even formed a sentence. 

“No, Caboose.”

“Can I see Theta--”

“No, Caboose, we can’t see any of them,” Washington said, voice tipping into a note of warning. “I’m sorry.”

Caboose frowned, eyes narrowing and fists tightening. “But--”

“No, Caboose.”

“But they weren’t _for_ you!” Caboose snapped. “They were for me! And Tucker! And the Reds.”

Agent Washington rubbed at his face with his free hand, the other sliding the tablet back onto the end table. “The AI aren’t stable, Caboose--”

“Uh-huh! Church left them for me. They’re good.”

When Caboose paused to breathe again, Agent Washington crossed his arms and shook his head. “I’m sorry, Caboose. We’re just... we’re not done checking up on them.”

Caboose glared. “You don’t like them,” he accused.

Washington’s frown set heavier on his face. “No, Caboose. I don’t.”

Frustrated, Caboose looked to the ceiling, still wide awake. “I could fix them. Just like I could fix Freckles.”

“Maybe when you’re better, Caboose,” Washington sighed. “Maybe.”


	4. Choices

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wave of non-updates. Things are trending toward hectic on my end these last few weeks, and while these updates are always short, I hope to get them out only when I have time to really think on them. Y’know, with depressing Caboose thoughts. Not as easy to come by as one may think!
> 
> Thanks for the feedback to @mo-and-mu, Yin, Beawolfs_Pen, CremePhresh, and meirelle on AO3 and tumblr!

She was already on her way and hoping to be mostly unseen when Kimball looked her way. 

Carolina’s movements reluctantly came to a stop and she watched as the general approached her from the other end of the hall, shoulders squared and a note of aggravation on her face.

If her experience was anything like Carolina’s experience in talking circles with representative of the UNSC, Carolina could very much sympathize.

“Not very productive today, are they?” Carolina asked with a nod toward the soldiers. “I guess they never really are.”

“My entire planet is under Martial Law, Agent Carolina,” Kimball reminded her. “ _Helpful_ is the last thing they want to be toward a failed government.”

“That government doesn’t exist anymore,” Carolina repeated Kimball’s favorite mantra. 

“But its effects and its war are still being held against us,” Kimball grunted, eyes still darting down the hall before returning to Carolina. “I ordered Andersmith to relieve Agent Washington this morning, like you asked.”

Carolina took a steady breath, nodding. “Good. Thank you, Kimball--”

“He was asking about you.”

Blinking, Carolina tried to decipher what could have been meant by the phrase. She tilted her chin up, considering. She highly doubted it was Andersmith.

“Wash?” she questioned.

Kimball shook her head once. “No. Captain Caboose.”

With that, Carolina felt her insides twist. 

When she had comforted Caboose that night out of desperation, he had curled around her and suffocated her with his sobbing before finally falling asleep. She spent hours sitting with him on that bed, and she didn’t get to close her eyes once for the next two days once Washington had come and gotten him. 

In was the worst Carolina had felt since she had first entered the ship and seen the results of the battle for herself, since watching the utter meltdown of her one remaining friend, and seeing the agony apparent on the face of the surviving Blue. 

How either of them could stand to be around each other after seeing the worst of each other was beyond her. 

“Why me?” she asked.

“I wouldn’t know,” Kimball said, hands on her hips. “I suppose you’ll need to find out on your own.”

Looking at Kimball directly gave her no read of the stoic leader, something Carolina didn’t like but respected a lot about the general. She exhaled sharply, looking over Kimball’s shoulder, then back to her.

“I was in the middle of checking on something,” she said. And it was the truth. 

Still, Kimball looked dully at her. 

“Your interest in _those things_ is... concerning,” Kimball replied, her brow furrowing. 

“Until the UNSC lets some of your people work on getting Lopez and Freckles back online, they’re the best sources of information I have on what happened on that ship, _and_ my best chance of figuring out what I’m doing next,” Carolina reminded her. 

Kimball stared at her before releasing a small sigh, rubbing at her face. “I know you’re all in a bad position, and you’re in that position because you helped us. My people _feel_ for you, I assure you, but... Listen, Carolina. I’m telling you this, not as a leader, not as a general, not as anything other than as a _friend_ , if you don’t spend more time with your own, you’re only going to regret it.”

Carolina narrowed her eyes. “I don’t respond well to guilt tripping, general,” she said sourly.

“Then I’d suggest you find a way to not feel so guilty when faced with the truth,” she fired back. “I think you know where you can find them,” she said before turning and heading back toward the UNSC soldiers. 

Those words just made Carolina feel cold and numb. 

After a few moments of standing there, Carolina shook her head and, almost in spite, made her way toward Caboose’s usual haunt. Just to prove a point. 

But the moment she neared, she could feel her heart racing, and she felt a sickening burn grow in the pit of her stomach long before Caboose’s booming voice was in earshot. She could imagine the dulled, tired responses from Andersmith in between, but she didn’t hear them. Caboose, for whatever it was worth, seemed happier and more bombastic when Washington or Andersmith were around him.

Almost as if he was normal again.

It was the sort of thing that made Carolina almost feel ill.

“And _she_ was my oldest sister. She was older than the ones I just told you,” Caboose’s voice carried. “She loved the stars, but not the moon. Oh and my other sister, I miss her, too. She does science. I don’t know what kind. We made a volcano once.”

Still several feet away, Carolina was stopped dead in her tracks. Her eyes closed and she tilted her head back, shaking it slightly.

“I can’t,” she said to herself. “I can’t... I just can’t.”

She didn’t apologize into the nothing, she didn’t stick her head in, she didn’t do anything other than turn on her heels and go back from whence she came. Doubling her speed, rushing past soldiers and any judgmental gaze Kimball might have had on store. 

She instead stopped only after reaching the engineering and computer hub of the new citadel’s central building. She keyed in her password, opened the doors, and quickly shut them again behind her. 

Like every time before, since the UNSC had taken hold of Chorus, there was no one to work in the room besides Carolina. 

But she was also far from alone.

The burning visage stood before her eyes the moment they opened.

“Greetings, Agent Carolina --”

“Sigma,” Carolina scowled. “You got out of another program.”

The AI smiled, yellow eyes glowing. “Every challenge, when set before you, only requires some... _creativity_ to overcome.”

“Go back to your unit,” Carolina ordered before walking toward the bay that held all seven of the containment units. 

“I’m merely a curious, growing mind, Agent Carolina. Your reactions to my ambition always seem rather... inconsiderate.”

“I don’t care,” Carolina said firmly. “Go.”

When she turned, she saw the AI still firmly in place, burning more and more. 

“How long must I be punished for the foolish mistakes of a precious incarnation I had nothing to do with?” Sigma asked genuinely. “My brothers and I are--”

“Not the same AI, I’m aware,” Carolina cut him off. “Go. That’s an order.”

She glared at the space until, at long last, Sigma bowed out, flickering away from sight. 

Still, she waited a few more minutes for any acting up from the ambitious AI before turning to the most familiar of the units. She stopped, checked the tag, then took a collective breath. 

After filling in the command on the keyboard, Carolina watched as the green glow appeared.

“Greetings, Agent Carolina,” Delta said. “Are we running more cross searches today for leads?”

“Yes, we are,” Carolina replied before pulling up a chair. “We’re going to find him, Delta.”

“If anyone can find the former Chairman, Agent Carolina, I would place the odds in your favor,” Delta said with a nod. “Is there anything else I can do as we wait?”

“Yes,” Carolina said, folding her hands together on her lap. “Play the message again. From Epsilon. I need to hear it today.”

“Of course.”


	5. Escaping Memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic has done a real good job of making me sit back and think of the more horrible combination of things that could happen possible and digging into gritty parts of canon to support those assumptions. Not exactly for this chapter, but there’s a few hidden surprises coming up that I think will catch everyone off guard :B
> 
> Thanks for the feedback to @toaradical, @mo-and-mu, Yin, and @ephemeraltea on AO3 and tumblr!

Washington looked over the choices a few times, biting a bit on the nail of his thumb as he focused. Caboose was swaying back and forth to his side, pulling at the various corners and seams of his loose gown. 

Without a proper uniform or survival suit like they had been used to wearing for so many years then, Caboose was left with all the largest shirts and sweats that Chorus could scrounge up for them. Most of them were too long or too loose for Caboose’s liking, but at the same time were best for not aggravating his various stitches and casts. Hospital gowns on Caboose, however, were even worse. 

It was a losing battle no matter how they tried.

Much like trying to choose the next cast color. 

“The same blue?” Wash asked, finally looking up to Caboose. “They’re almost out. We might need another color. This one probably won’t go up your whole arm.”

Caboose stopped twisting and stared at Washington. He sputtered a bit, looking off. 

“Caboose?” Wash pressed. “I need you to give me another color besides blue--”

“I just want Blue,” Caboose whined in turn, pulling at his hair in aggravation. “It’s my favorite. And _I’m_ blue--”

“Having a different shade of blue on your cast isn’t going to make you any less... well, _Blue_ , Caboose,” Wash assured him. “See,” he picked up one of the samples. “This is pretty close to my Blue armor color. And it doesn’t even have yellow accents. All cobalt.”

Caboose stared at him for a moment before reaching to take the sample from him. He examined it carefully. 

“It’s Church’s blue,” he said, a frown tugging at the corners of his lips. He blinked a few times, his eyes getting a little shiny before he shook his entire head. He then looked to Washington. “Oh. And your blue, too.”

“Yeah,” Wash sighed. “Yeah, it is.”

Caboose exhaled strongly through his nose and then looked to the sample again. “What about Tucker?”

The sting hurt, it hurt a lot -- Wash didn’t know Church as Alpha or Epsilon enough to mourn the way he had seen Caboose or Carolina... but Tucker.

Tucker was his soldier. His responsibility. His friend.

Tucker and the Reds Wash knew, had _lived with_ for _years._ Fought beside, fought _with_ \-- 

Nothing felt more hollow and empty than when he had to look to his side and see that they weren’t there. And nothing felt more conflicting than wondering about the few minutes, few _seconds_ that he and Carolina lost in their race to reach them. 

Images of that room were there, in his mind, ready to remind him of what he saw. But they were never of Tucker.

Wash couldn’t figure out how to feel about that. About that blank space in his head from that day.

Hoarsely, Wash whispered, “No, Caboose. None like Tucker.”

Caboose took another breath and turned away, walking back to the cot and getting back on it like he was supposed to have been the whole time. He leaned back, staring at the ceiling. 

“I want Church Blue,” he said. “Caboose Blue and Church Blue.”

Wash nodded, looking to the box of samples before pulling the two out. “Okay,” he finally said out loud.

“Is it going to be scary again?” Caboose asked, still staring into the light above him, as if it was something more interesting. 

Setting the swaths on the top of the box and nodding to the nurse waiting in the door, Wash made his way to Caboose’s side, pulling up one of the useless plastic chairs. “I don’t really know, Caboose,” Wash replied simply enough. He listened as the nurse grabbed the materials from the table and left, then another nurse’s shoes sounded as she came in. “I hope it’s not.”

“It’s always scary,” Caboose said, very matter of fact. “Always.” He turned  his head just enough to look at Agent Washington. He pouted. “Will you be here?”

“Yes,” Washington assured him. “I’ll watch everything. I always do.”

“I never remember you.”

“That’s because you’re always asleep,” Wash assured him, making sure not to break eye contact even as the nurse rounded the bed and began to fiddle with Caboose’s good arm. In return, Caboose never looked away from Wash either, even as he flinched and scooted away uselessly. 

Caboose’s eyes grew watery. 

Wash felt his stomach drop. “Please, Caboose... don’t...”

“I’m sorry,” Caboose mumbled, flinching as the needle went in his arm.

“Why are you sorry?” Wash asked, reaching out and putting a comforting hand on Caboose’s shoulder.

“I never let you sleep.”

Wash’s mouth opened but he didn’t have any words to give. He watched as Caboose all but melted into the bed, his eyes sliding closed and his jaw slacking. He blinked a few times more but it just still felt like his brain was on pause. 

As the nurses began to situate Caboose and the cot better for transport, Wash stood up from the chair, rubbing at his face.

It was so much easier when he could believe that Caboose didn’t know what he was asking of Wash all of the time. 

“Damn it,” he muttered, watching as the nurses began to push his last teammate out toward the hall. 

Slowly, Wash followed, his steps only losing momentum as he saw another “last teammate” waiting up ahead.

Carolina was still in full armor beyond her helmet, arms crossed a bit under her chest. She was looking out toward the direction the nurses had gone, a frown set on her face. But she was several feet from the door of the room Wash had spent agonizing hours in with Caboose prior to surgery. 

Wash felt his patience wearing fairly thin.

“He’ll be alright,” Carolina said, finally turning her piercing green gaze toward Wash once he began walking toward her again.

“That could have been _very_ comforting coming from you,” Wash said crossly. “I wish Caboose had heard it.”

Carolina had the gall to look a bit surprised by his words.

“What is _that_ supposed to mean?” she demanded.

“Carolina, where the fuck have you been?” Wash asked. “Caboose has been a wreck about this surgery since... well, since he heard about it, but today? Today would have been a nice time to pick up some slack.”

She narrowed her eyes. “ _Slack!?”_ she repeated. “What _slack_ are you talking about, Agent Washington?”

“Yours,” he hissed, waving exaggeratedly toward the OR. “With _Caboose!”  
_

 _“_ There is no slack,” she said firmly. “He needs you. And Andersmith. He doens’t like me.”

“WHAT!?” Wash snarled. “Where did you even _get_ an idea like that?”

“It’s the truth--”

“No it’s not and _you know it,_ Carolina!” Wash countered. “I don’t even know if I’ve _seen_ you in the past week. Two weeks even!”

“Do you know why?” She demanded. “Because _I_ , without _your_ help, have got a solid lead on where to find Malcolm Hargrove--”

Frustration beyond capacity, Wash threw up his arms. “WHO CARES?”

“All of us!” she roared. “He killed our people--”

“God,” Wash shook his head, stepping away from Carolina. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest. “Don’t you think I know that?”

“Then why aren’t you angrier!?” Carolina hissed.

“Because _I’m too tired to be angry anymore!”_ he bellowed back, looking her square in the face. “I’m too tired, Carolina! I need _help!_ Caboose needs help -- he needs you. _I_ need you. I don’t even feel like I can breathe half the time anymore and I just _can’t ever stop_ because Caboose is there and he can’t take care of himself and--” a choked noise bubbled from his throat, cutting him off. Wash couldn’t keep it down, even as he put his hands over his eyes to try. “I can’t do this. Not alone.” He looked up, could see the shock and horror on Carolina’s face. Her anger, for once, seemed to have evaporated. “I can’t help Caboose by myself anymore, ‘Lina. _I_ have to get help first. And I can’t do that with Caboose on me twenty-four seven. Do you understand?”

Closing her mouth, Carolina nodded once. “I’m... Wash... I’m not the best at...” She looked down to her feet. “Epsilon told me... I had to let go... That my past couldn’t define me...” She looked up. “But... I know he didn’t mean we should run from things either. Wash... I’m sorry.”

He searched her face, made sure she meant it, then nodded slowly. “Thank you,” he responded softly.

“Hargrove has to be dealt with,” she said firmly.

Wash frowned. “Maybe,” he said. “Right now...”

“Caboose.”

He nodded. “Caboose.”


	6. Check Ups

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Halloween Spooky Update! It’s not spooky really, but it is an update that you guys have deserved SO much. I apologize SOOOOOOO much for the lack of updates lately. I’ve started the last 6 weeks of my semester which means finals finals finals everywhere unfortunately. So just wish me survivability on those! And hopefully less of a wait before the next update : )
> 
> Thanks for the feedback to @mo-and-mu, @godoflaundrybaskets, @ephemeraltea, Yin, Beawolfs_Pen, and @toaradical on AO3 and tumblr!

When his eyes opened, Caboose saw that Agent Washington didn’t lie -- he was right there, waiting on Caboose to wake up. 

First Agent Washington smiled a bit, reached toward the tray stand and grabbed a cup of that crushed ice stuff. Caboose didn’t _remember_ having any before, but for some reason he knew he liked it. It was strawberry flavored. 

“Are you thirsty?” Wash asked. 

“Yes,” Caboose said dryly. 

“You’re more awake this time,” Agent Washington reported, getting a spoonful of the ice. “How’s your arm?”

“I have an arm?” Caboose blinked before getting a spoonful of ice in his mouth.

“Hmm. So the morphine works,” Washington hummed, looking over Caboose’s shoulder to the beeping machines Caboose was only beginning to notice. “That’s good. It’s getting late and I didn’t want them to have to shift your medication between shifts.”

Caboose glared a bit before settling further into his mattress. At that motion his back ached and a stinging pain came from his arm that made him flinch, but the cooling numbness wasn’t far behind it. 

“Is surgery going to be scary, Agent Washington?” Caboose asked.

“I don’t think so,” Wash said, a small laugh in his breath. “You already had it.”

“Oh,” Caboose replied. He looked down to his arm, his gaze met with the Blue-and-Cobalt colors wrapped snugly around his arm. “Me and Church.”

Washington took a heavy breath and shifted uncomfortably on the waiting chair. “Yes, Caboose, just like you wanted,” he sighed. 

“I can get gray-and-blue if you want,” Caboose said, looking up to him. “Next time.”

“I just want you to have the colors that make you happy, Caboose,” Wash replied earnestly, his arms crossed over his chest. “And _hopefully_ there won’t _be_ a next time. Doctor Grey thinks with that stint in place your bones will heal and you won’t need any more operations. On your arm.”

“Oh,” Caboose said, looking up to the ceiling. “I would like that very much.”

“All of us would, Caboose,” Wash said. “No more surgeries for a while. Alright? That means you have to be more careful. And be good to yourself, alright?”

“Yes, Agent Washington,” Caboose sighed. “Thank you for being here, Agent Washington.”

“You’re welcome,” Wash sighed, getting up from the chair.

Immediately, Caboose stiffened, his eyes following Wash with terrified roundness. If it was possible while still on the drip, his heart picked up a frightening speed in his chest.

“A-a-agent Washington?” he called out. “Where are you going--”

“I’m just stepping out for a bit, Caboose,” Wash explained tiredly, reaching over to put the spoon back in the ice cup. 

Caboose reached out with his good arm through the numbness and grabbed Wash’s shoulder. The former Freelancer hung his head but didn’t resist. He just sighed. 

“Caboose...”

“Oh, just ignore him, Caboose.”

Surprised, Caboose turned his head toward the door of his room. When he saw Agent Carolina, his hand lessened its grip on Agent Washington’s shoulder until the other man finally gently held it and lowered it back down to Caboose’s bedside. 

Carolina walked in, strangely still in armor which made Caboose’s insides ache a bit. He loved his Blue armor -- hadn’t worn it since the day everything went bad. Agent Washington kept saying it was going to be too much of a strain on his healing bones. 

But he thought Agent Carolina and Washington had just as much to heal, and _they_ still got to wear their armors. Maybe just because they were more hurt inside than out. 

“Caboose, I’m going to go get some food and maybe grab some of your things to bring back, too,” Agent Washington announced. “While I’m doing that, Carolina is going to watch over you for me. Is that alright?”

Finally able to take his eyes from Carolina, Caboose furrowed his brow. He gave Washington a pointed look. “I don’t like when you leave.”

Washington’s shoulders dropped slightly. “Caboose.”

“It’s only for a little while,” Carolina cut in, drawing Caboose’s gaze back to her. “You... wanted to catch up with me. Right? That’s... what you told Kimball.”

Caboose didn’t miss the look that Wash was giving Carolina, but he found that she was very good at keeping his attention. “Yes,” he said. 

She smirked before giving a look to Wash and nodding toward the door. However reluctantly he might have done so, Washington made his way past her and out into the hall. 

All the while, Caboose just carefully watched Carolina -- watched as she walked around the foot of his bed, awkwardly tested the plastic chair, and finally sat beside him. She smiled, however broken and forced it might have appeared on her. 

“I... kind of have an idea of why you wanted to talk to me,” she said. “Is it... about Epsilon? About... well, about _Church?”_

Caboose searched her face, saw the hopeful draw in her eyes, but still shook his head. “No. Not about Church.”

Carolina’s face dropped steadily, she leaned back. “Is it... _me_ you really wanted?” she asked, quieter, almost scared.

“Actually...” Caboose said, tapping one of his good fingers on the bedside. “I was a, uh, _wondering_ about... about the other tiny people? The ones Church left? Yeah. I need to see them. Agent Washington won’t let me.”

If Caboose wasn’t watching so carefully, he might have missed Carolina taking a breath. She didn’t move at all from the moment he began talking about the AI. Her face drew into a tight, curious look. “Caboose... do you know ... they’re not Church?”

“Well, _duh,_ Agent Carolina. Everyone knows that now,” Caboose said firmly. “But... Church gave them to me. So... They’re mine. I just want to see them.”

Carolina frowned but she managed a nod. “Okay,” she agreed. “I mean. Yes. Yes, Caboose. I’ve seen them. I know where they are.”

“Can we see them together?” Caboose pleaded.

“If it means you can give Wash a rest, Caboose? Yes, yes we can,” she replied.

Caboose sighed with relief. “Okay, good. I was worried.”

While he rested back easily, feeling better than he had even before going for his long surgery sleep, Carolina watched him carefully, her face doing that quiet, thinky expression that Agent Washington liked to get as well. 


	7. New Old Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I continue to just be really floored by everyone for being so patient and so kind with me in this story. I really appreciate it, especially considering the subject matter is much sadder than my usual take in fic for RvB, so thank you all very much. 
> 
> Thanks for the feedback to meirelle, Beawolfs_Pen, Yin, and @hiding-in-the-dreamscape on AO3 and tumblr!

She wasn’t entirely sure what to expect other than Wash was probably going to be pissed if -- _when_ \-- he found out what they were doing. 

Carolina had gotten Caboose to agree to at least wait until he was released from the hospital and able to walk around more on his own again before bringing up his request again. She had been worried, for at least the first week, that his excitement over being able to finally see the AI that he would share the plan with someone else. But, it seemed, Caboose had realized the danger in this and had kept quiet. 

At least, he’d kept quiet to anyone who would have possibly stepped in on the plot like Washington or Grey or Kimball.

He still told Andersmith.

The soldier looked at her very quietly from the hall as she talked to Washington just outside of the rec room where Caboose was currently being absorbed in going through some of the supplies Jensen had brought for him to see. He seemed tight lipped and tense the more he looked over her, to the point that Carolina couldn’t continue to ignore it.

She turned and glared at him as Washington slowed his talk and followed her gaze toward Andersmith.

Wash seemed more confused by the whole situation. “Lieutenant?” he called out curiously. “Is there something the matter?” 

“No, Sir,” Andersmith responded lowly.

For a moment, Wash seemed ready to continue his conversation only to realize that Carolina wasn’t as ready to drop her glare toward Andersmith. He looked between them. “Alright, I feel like there’s something here I’m missing,” he muttered, bringing a hand to his chin.

“Agent Washington!”

Carolina’s eyes darted to Wash, watching the way his mouth pressed to a thin line and how he let out a long breath through his nose before finally turning back toward the rec room and heading in. 

“I’m coming, Caboose,” he answered as he went further in. 

There was a tinge of regret that she hadn’t tried to step in, but Carolina quickly buried it, instead making her way over to Andersmith. 

“You seem to have a problem with me today, Lieutenant,” she said, narrowing her eyes suspiciously.

Andersmith scowled at her, doing even less to hide his feelings without Agent Washington around. In a way Carolina appreciated his dedication to keeping whatever he knew private. 

“Captain Caboose has informed me that you’re taking a field trip with him later,” he said thickly. “He’s happy about it.”

“But you’re not,” Carolina surmised.

“I most _certainly_ am not,” Andersmith agreed boldly. “Agent Washington warned us very clearly that the AI recovered from Charon carried numerous potential threats. _And_ he warned us that in mourning, Captain Caboose was likely to be more easily persuaded by them.”

Carolina glared at him. She _hated_ when people she argued with were making sense. 

It didn’t make her any more agreeable, however.

“Listen, Wash doesn’t know as much as he seems to believe he does. Especially with these AI,” she snapped. “The AI used by Freelancer? They’re... they’re special. They’re... They’re more than AI. And the fragments we have are not just some random bits of numbers we pulled from the ether. They were designed for a purpose. They were designed by _Epsilon_. _For_ us. That’s what we can’t forget.”

“Yes,” Andersmith responded lowly. “But for _what_ purpose is our concern.”

Carolina glared. “Let _me_ worry about that, Andersmith. I can handle Caboose, I can handle the AI. I know what I’m doing.”

Her voice carried so much confidence she nearly convinced herself as she turned and strolled into the rec room, clapping her hands together loudly to draw Washington and Caboose’s attention to her. 

“Wash! It’s three o’clock! Get moving, I’ve already sent a message out to Doctor Grey that you’re going in for a checkup--”

“I was actually just going to take some time to--”

Carolina pointed at him then toward the general direction of the hospital. 

Wash stared at her before releasing a long sigh and nodding. “Alright, alright.” He looked up, a little worriedly, toward Caboose. “Are you... Will you be okay with Carolina if I head out, Caboose?” he asked gently.

Caboose’s eyes had locked on Carolina the moment she clapped, shining with understanding of what plan was being put into action. He nodded rapidly, hair flopping as he did so.

“Yes! And yes. Yes, Agent Washington.”

Looking Caboose over, Wash didn’t seem entirely convinced, even by the obvious sincerity in Caboose’s voice, but he slowly got up all the same. He looked at Carolina, rubbing at his neck. “Are... _you_ certain you’re okay? I mean. I’ll be gone for a few hours, it won’t be quick like the last few times you’ve been with Caboose--”

“I can handle it,” she said firmly. She then nodded toward the exit. “Get rolling, Wash.”

He still hesitated before moving on out, every step painfully methodical. 

Carolina watched him leave, shaking her head. “What a worry wart,” she mumbled before walking over to Caboose and grabbing his shoulders. “He’s got nothing to worry about, right, Caboose?” 

“Nope!” Caboose agreed, pushing himself right off the couch. He grinned ear to ear at her. “We can go now? Can we? Please?”

“Yeah, of course,” Carolina nodded, ignoring the piercing feeling of Andersmith glaring at the back of her head. “I’ll lead the way. Think you can keep up?”

“Yup,” Caboose hummed. “My bottom’s not hurt anymore!”

“That’s... very... _good_ , Caboose,” she settled on as she led the way.

The moment there was no one else to balance conversation on, Carolina found herself struggling to think of things to say to Caboose. She wasn’t sure where his limits would lie, wasn’t sure why the lack of enthusiastic babble bothered her so much -- wondered how it was that Washington couldn’t get Caboose to be quiet, whereas with her Caboose finally seemed capable of some reservation. 

She just wasn’t sure of anything with Caboose and that, in itself, terrified her. 

But she did feel one thing for certain: Caboose said the AI that Epsilon had left behind were for him, and she knew that Caboose was good with fixing things. 

Him taking a look at the AI seemed only reasonable. 

When she stopped in front of the garage door, Carolina could see the excited tremors taking hold of Caboose. His eyes were starry with joy. It made her swallow down her own feelings of concern. 

Carolina looked him over. “Caboose... if you don’t want to do this, we could always... go back and play cards or... whatever it is that you do all day with Wash.”

Caboose’s eyes drifted toward her, blinking once, then returned to the door. “I have never wanted anything more in my whole life!”

She rubbed at her face before sighing. “Okay. Well. Here’s to hoping this isn’t a mistake,” she said before opening the door. 

As usual, an orange, burning glow awaited the other side. 

“Sigma--” she warned. She had made _sure_ to warn him not to act up beforehand, and yet again he was out.

The AI seemed immediately disinterested in her, his focus instead on Caboose. He drifted toward the sim trooper.

“Captain Michael Caboose?” he asked.

“I am a Captain. And Michael Caboose,” Caboose replied.

“On behalf of myself and _all_ of my brethren,” Sigma said, waving back toward the other online units, “I would like to give the most sincere of apologies.”

“ _Apologies?”_ Carolina repeated.

Sigma turned just enough to look at her. “Yes, apologies,” he confirmed before looking back to Caboose. “The AI Epsilon -- our brother and our preserver -- freed us and allowed us just one task. And that was to aid you and your friends, the former simulation troopers of Project Freelancer.”

Carolina looked to Caboose, searching for a reaction, and was stunned to see what could only be described as a hardened look. For Caboose in any case. His eyes were dark and mouth distinctly a frown, but there was the unmistakable watering of his features. 

Over the last months Carolina had witnessed Caboose’s tears enough to know their precursors. 

“My friends are dead,” Caboose said in just more than a whisper. 

Mouth unable to form words, Carolina just stared at Caboose. She had never heard him speak so clearly, so _truly_ before. As miserable as he had been, as often as she had bore witness to his tears, Carolina had still clung to the idea that somehow Caboose didn’t fully understand what they had lost, or the permanence of that loss. 

His bluntness knocked the wind out of her, leaving her to turn away from the scene just to catch her breath.

 _God they_ were _dead. They’re_ gone. _Forever._

“We know they are, Captain,” Sigma replied. “We failed. We are _all_ sorry.”

Caboose lowered his head, released a long breath, then looked back up. “I... would like to make more friends,” he announced. 

“We may provide you with what you need,” Sigma responded, a little more darkly, which was enough to snap Carolina back into the moment and turn her back toward the burning AI. “And, of course, I assume you are as interested in finding leads on Malcolm Hargrove as Agent Carolina is--”

“ _Sigma!”_ Carolina seethed in warning, stepping up to them.

“No.”

Carolina and Sigma both looked to Caboose. The wateriness of his eyes was mostly cleared, but his frown remained. He was shaking his head at Sigma. 

“No?” Sigma asked.

“I do not like that man,” Caboose responded lowly. “I do not want to find him. He is not welcome to be my friend.” His eyes narrowed. “And he is _very_ bald.”

When Caboose turned a suspicious eye toward Carolina, she nearly felt her heart stop as the accusation caught up with her. She shook her head emphatically. “No, Caboose, I did not ask the AI to find Hargrove because I want to be his _friend,”_ she declared, feeling a chill go down her spine at the very thought. “I want him to _pay_ for what he’s done.”

The Blue didn’t look impressed with the response. But he sighed and looked in toward the room all the same. “I’m going to make my new friends,” he explained before walking on in. 

She watched Caboose move immediately toward the AI holding units, then to the frame of Lopez’s inactivated body, to the demolished rifle that had once been his own. Then she watched as he began to open up the AI units one by one. 

Sigma projected just to the side of her, watching intently with interest. 

Carolina leered at him. “If you hurt him, Sigma -- if you do _anything_ to him --”

“My entire purpose of existing is for the exact opposite, Agent Carolina,” he reminded her, flicking his eyes toward her. “Please remember that. I am _not_ the AI who formerly possessed the name Sigma. None of us are.”

“You’re a memory of what killed several of my friends,” she reminded him angrily. 

“Epsilon’s resolution, his dream of letting himself be more powerful so as to better assist you all, was to let go of the past that had been inhibiting him for so long,” he reminded her. “ _None_ of us should be defined by our pasts.”

“But we can’t lose sight of where we started or else we’re just getting lost,” Carolina snapped. “It’s a tough line to draw, Sigma.”

“Then I suppose it’s just our journey to try and find where we all draw it,” Sigma responded before disappearing. Almost instantaneously, his own AI unit lit up, returning back online. 

Carolina watched it carefully while Caboose began to chatter with Theta. 


	8. Talking it Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wash chapters for this story are the easiest for me to write for some reason. So it was, in probably the worst way possible, comforting to get back in 
> 
> Thanks for the feedback to @toaradical, @hiding-in-the-dreamscape, @godoflaundrybaskets, @meirelle, Yin, Beawolfs_Pen, and @xheychikabumpbumpx on AO3 and tumblr!

He had been hesitant about letting the two of them go together. It wasn’t even that he had a particular reason for feeling so unsettled in regards to it all.

After the months of needing rest, of just needing space and a break, actually _getting_ it reminded Wash of what he had been avoiding facing all along: the dwelling dread that the moment he wasn’t there was when he would be needed the most. 

It made him physically ill as he walked down the hall. His spine trembled with the nervousness of it all and he found himself beginning to walk back toward the rec room only to find that Caboose and Carolina were already gone. 

Washington stood still, eyes darting around the room for any sign of them before settling on the familiar figures of the lieutenants and marching over to them. 

His determination and anxiety must have been written all over his face despite his best efforts because the moment they turned to face him, the lieutenants grew quiet and pale, standing in attention as if they were on the drilling line. 

Not giving the action much thought, Wash waved over the room shakily. “Where did Caboose and Carolina go?” he demanded.

The lieutenants looked at each other then back to him. Andersmith in particular carried a hardened look on his face. 

“Gone?” Palomo spoke up worriedly. “Um. Don’t take this the wrong way, Agent Washington, Sir, but aren’t you supposed to go to a meeting? I mean, it’s just that that’s what Agent Carolina said and--”

Bitters elbowed Palomo hard enough in the side to lunge the smaller lieutenant forward, seething and rubbing his ribs. 

Wash couldn’t help but set his jaw at the news. He scratched at the back of his neck. “Did... did they seem alright? Did Caboose want me?”

“No?” Bitters answered, looking even more confused.

Jensen wrung her hands. “Are you... is everything okay, Agent Washington?” she asked. 

Frowning, Wash shook his head. “Everything’s... _fine._ I’m just...”

“Running late for that meeting?” Palomo piped up again, that time dodging Bitters’ elbow completely. 

“I... suppose I am,” Wash responded shiftily before turning back around and heading out. 

He supposed he couldn’t be blamed too much for making Doctor Grey wait, she should have expected as much knowing what patient she was dealing with. 

The entire trek to the hospital ward and up to Grey’s personal office was a practice in breathing exercises for Washington. His heart had picked up the moment his dread had took hold and even as he entered the office had yet to return to normal. It made the physical illness of the whole matter feel even greater as he lowered himself to a chair at Grey’s insistence. 

“You seem more well rested,” she observed out loud, feet tucked up into her office chair and knees just below her chin. He was looking intently back at Washington, her eyes seeming to not miss a thing. “But it’s far from enough. You’re very stressed.”

Wash heaved a sigh, rubbing at his eyes. “You don’t say?” he replied sardonically. 

She clicked her tongue against her teeth and leaned forward, head tilted. “Agent Washington, has something _recently_ upset you?”

“I’m not upset,” he insisted, heart pounding. “I’m just concerned.”

“Hm,” Doctor Grey replied, resting back in her chair. “Is your concern about Caboose?”

“Yes,” Wash sighed.

“Do you mind explaining that more? Why are you worried about Caboose at the moment?” she pressed.

Wash looked at her, scowling slightly as he folded his arms across his chest. “He’s just... there’s a lot of intricacies in taking care of him, making sure he doesn’t hurt himself... and he’s very easy to upset lately as it is. Carolina helping out is... it’s amazing. It’s all I wanted from her but... I’m not sure how much of a caretaker she is... It’s never been her forte.”

She hugged her knees a bit, frowning. “And I suppose you have always taken on the role of caretaker?”

A little surprised, Wash leaned back and blinked. “I... no. No, probably almost never. Not before, well, crashing here.”

The irony of his words were not lost on him, and Wash began to sink further into his chair, taking a heralding breath that seemed to finally slow the racing of his heart. 

“Is there any other reason Carolina watching over Caboose concerns you, Agent Washington?” Doctor Grey asked genuinely.

“Not anything rational, no,” he admitted, looking down slightly. “It’s not even so much that it’s her with him. Or Andersmith. It’s just... as tired as I’ve been, as much as I know it’s best for both Caboose and me that he be watched over by someone else from time to time, I... I would rather it happen while I could still be there. Just in case.”

“In case of what?” 

Blinking a few times, Wash finally looked back to Doctor Grey, seeing the intensity of her eyes as she searched his face. “In case I’m needed,” he answered simply.

“For what?” she continued in earnest.

“I don’t know,” he said, sighing in aggravation. “I just. I want to be there. Just... just in case. Is that so difficult?”

“There’s no need to be distressed, Wash,” she replied, finally lowering her feet to the floor and scooting more into her desk. “I think that’s a very earnest feeling you’re having. A very _real_ need. I just want to help you make sure that can handle it. And, more than that, that you know you don’t have to handle it alone.”

He looked at her, watched her carefully before shaking his head slightly. “I don’t know if I agree with that, Doctor Grey. Dealing with some things alone is good for certain people.”

“You think you’re one of those people?” 

“History would show that I am, I believe,” he said crisply. 

Doctor Grey wore a sad smile and sighed softly. “Washington, even if that is true, we all learn that there are some things that _none_ of us are able to truly handle alone. Didn’t we learn that handling Caboose alone was not so good or easy for anyone?”

“That’s different,” Wash waved off. “I don’t _need_ people that way. Not for this. I just... I have to work through this myself. When I’m able to.”

“Work through what? Your memories?” Doctor Grey asked, frowning slightly. “Let me also ask you this, Agent Washington... working on your feelings alone... have you been able to take the next step that way?”

Wash frowned, settling back more in his chair. He couldn’t form “no” even though it was stuck in the back of his throat. 

The next step, the one Doctor Grey wanted... he didn’t even _think_ about it outside of her office. He wasn’t even _tempted_ to. 

“It’s alright if you haven’t,” she reminded him. “I’m not attempting to push you toward doing something you are not yet ready to do, and visiting the memorial is a _large_ step--”

“No one asked us if we wanted that,” Wash reminded her darkly. “No one asked us if that was the right thing.”

“The people of Chorus wanted to pay tribute to its heroes, Agent Washington,” she reminded him. “I’m sorry that it’s been so upsetting.”

He screwed his eyes shut. He couldn’t even form an image of the wall in question, just flickers of walking by people gathered, of flowers and letters and bright colors that burned a hole in his chest and frustrated him beyond words. 

That frustrated him nearly as much as remembering how he chose to sit by a recovering bedside, not even able to fathom leaving Caboose as a ceremony was held in their honor. He never left, not even for a minute, and Caboose wouldn’t have stirred for another two days. 

“How is your heart?”

Opening his eyes, Wash looked curiously at her. “My heart?”

“Are you able to breath easier, too?” Doctor Grey continued.

Almost on reflex, Wash took a deep breath before setting back in his chair. His heart _had_ stopped racing. 

When he didn’t respond, Doctor Grey calmly smoothed out the papers on her desk. “I’m asking because you were highly upset when you came in earlier. You say that you don’t need anyone else. That there are things you need to do alone. And I don’t doubt that there are things that require that kind of exclusion. But you seem to think you can use that as an excuse to isolate yourself from things other people, that friends who care about you like we do, _can_ do for you.” She smiled. “After all, just being able to talk, to just say what you’re feeling without walking on eggshells around those you’re trying to take care of, can do wonders for some of that stress you’ve had built up. If you don’t, you might explode on someone!”

Thinking back to the episode he had in the hospital, Wash sunk slightly in his chair, looking off. “Wouldn’t want that... no matter how good it might feel...”

Looking up at him, her eyes piercing, Doctor Grey explained softly, “You don’t have to do any of this alone, Agent Washington. No one has to be alone.”

He stared at her for a moment. “That’s well and good, Doctor Grey, but... none of that helps the fact that I can’t seem to be in the right place when I’m needed,” he reminded her. “That’s the source of this problem.”

“Is it?” she asked. “Agent Washington, you have suffered a great and _terrible_ tragedy. And you feel it more keenly than almost all of us. But you can’t continue to believe that it is blame to cast squarely on yourself. I must remind you, you are _not_ alone. You never have to be alone in any of this.”

Wash lowered his gaze again, shaking his head.

Face dropping more, Doctor Grey leaned forward. “Agent Washington? Is something the matter--”

“Caboose,” Wash reminded her. “You said I felt what... what we lost more keenly than almost anyone.” He looked at her sadly. “Caboose feels it more. And... for him, even with all of us here, with all of the Reds and Blues beside him gone... he really is alone.”


	9. Little Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alrighty then! I had to take a step back from this story for a little bit because I wasn’t in the right mind to really give it the sort of attention it needed, but now I’m back and we’re so close to the end you can almost smell it! For better or worse : ) Buckle up, friends, things look like they’re about to get a little... sad.
> 
> Thanks for the feedback to @hiding-in-the-dreamscape, @xheychikabumpbumpx, @meirelle, @godoflaundrybaskets, Yin, ElZacharie, Beawolfs_Pen, StopHelping, and eyebrow kid on AO3 and tumblr!

Agent Carolina was not so bad. 

Caboose never understood the others being scared of her. Not really. He was never scared of Tex the same way either, but Carolina seemed so nice. And Blue. It didn’t really surprise him so much that she was always ready to take him to make his new friends feel better. 

AI were some of the best friends in the whole universe, which Caboose knew because he made friends with robots all the time. Like Church. And Freckles. And Sheila. 

He liked Agent Washington, but Agent Washington wasn’t even allowed to know about the new little friends like Delta and Theta and Eta and Iota. And Sigma. He definitely didn’t know about Sigma.

That was between Caboose and Carolina.

Also Andersmith, because Caboose could tell Smith anything. 

Which was exactly what Caboose was planning to do that day, with Carolina off with Miss Kimball and Washington looking carefully at the clock every few minutes waiting for his check up.

It was the _perfect_ surprise plan. He just had to wait. 

Caboose mashed the puzzle piece in the spot he knew it was supposed to go then frowned as it didn’t fit. He lifted his hand away and looked to Washington.

Wash looked at the piece for only a second before turning it and letting it snap in place.

“You’re so good at fixing things, Agent Washington,” Caboose complimented. 

Wash let out a small huff and smirked. “I wish I was better.”

“You’re already the best,” Caboose said before looking back to Andersmith then to Washington. “But Smith’s good. Very good. He’ll take your spot while you go see Mean Doctor Lady Grey. Yes. We’ll do just fine with Smith. Right, Smith?”

“I will do anything you need me to, Captain Caboose!” Andersmith responded with a salute, ignoring the roll of eyes he got from the nearby other lieutenants.

Wash frowned, looking to the clock again before sighing. “Actually, Caboose, since Carolina is busy today I thought you and I could--”

“Nope!” Caboose responded hurriedly.

The former Freelancer blinked and tilted his head to the side. “Nope?” he repeated.

“Nope,” Caboose said. “Go to the doctor, Agent Washington! It’s important.”

Had it been any of the weeks before, with Caboose fresh from surgery and Carolina still early in spending her time with him, Agent Washington would have never left. But right then, he was considering it. He actually stood up to begin to leave, chewing on his lip all the time. He gave a cautious glance to Andersmith before sighing and nodding. 

“You’re right, Caboose,” he said softly. “I’ll set a good example.”

Caboose watched eagerly as Agent Washington headed out into the hall and began on his way toward the hospital for Doctor Grey. Then he immediately leapt up, slightly off balance with his bad arm still in a sling, and took off toward the opposite hall. He hardly paid attention to Andersmith running behind him to keep in pace.

“I’m still not sure about all of this, Captain Caboose,” Andersmith said warily. 

“Okay,” Caboose responded with a shrug before continuing. “You stay.”

“Not going to happen,” Andersmith responded in a grunt as they made their ways through the twists and turns of the building. He knew the path as well as Caboose by that point, though he said nothing else until they arrived at the special door. He merely watched as Caboose punched the numbers in. 

“Captain Caboose,” the lieutenant said warily.

“Yes, Smith!” Caboose said cheerfully.

The younger man looked to the door then back to Caboose before taking a hesitant breath as it opened. “I just wanted you to know that... I’m glad you’ve found something that makes you so happy, Sir,” he explained.

Caboose frowned a moment at that. He tried to think over the words but decided instead to ignore them. 

He wasn’t very happy. Not yet. 

Andersmith didn’t understand that. Carolina didn’t either. Washington got it too much. 

His new little friends -- they got it just right. 

“Hello.”  
“Hello.”  
“Greetings.”  
“Hello!”  
“Hello-Hello.”

The AI greeted him all at once as Caboose and Andersmith entered the door and let it shut again behind them. 

As always, Sigma appeared by his shoulder, his burning eyes looking curiously into Caboose’s own. “Caboose... I don’t wish to discourage your ambition... but I do believe Agent Carolina said for us not to interact while she was gone. I would _hate_ to disappoint her... Wouldn’t you?”

“She’s a fine lady,” Caboose shrugged as he walked over to the workbench. “Yup. I think... She’ll get over it!”

“Indeed,” Sigma said, flickering out like a light. 

When Caboose took his usual seat again, Delta projected by the bench, looking over the heap of parts that Caboose had been tirelessly stringing back together since the first day Carolina had brought him to the room. 

“Are we picking up where we last left off, Caboose?” the green AI asked helpfully.

“Yup!” Caboose said cheekily, looking over the bits of brown armor that were left to be connected. 

Just like the puzzle, they all snapped into place, Delta only needing to correct the orientation once or twice before, finally, after weeks and two small fires, Caboose sat back and looked at the body laid out across the table. 

There was a certain glee that came across him as he reached for the head and readied to put it atop the shoulders. 

“I’m gonna do it!” he shouted excitedly. “I’m gonna fix Lopez and then--” 

The head clicked on and Caboose rose to his feet so fast the chair spun out behind him. He looked over Lopez’s face and screamed, “Welcome back, Spanish Buddy!”

Behind them, Andersmith moved forward, looking a little hesitant. 

Caboose kept his eyes locked on Lopez, waiting excitedly before pushing him slightly with his good hand. “Lopez! Say something I don’t understand!” he yelled happily again.

He watched, his heart pounding with excitement.

Lopez didn’t move.

After a few moments, Caboose dropped his head, glaring at the workbench. He didn’t even look up as Andersmith’s strong hand fell onto his shoulder. 

“It’s not fair,” Caboose said.

“I know, Sir,” Andersmith responded. 

Delta flickered back over the bench and looked in Caboose’s direction. “It was a large possibility that, once fully functional, the AI designated Lopez would turn on automatically. However, for reasons I cannot explain it would seem... the AI hardwired to this unit is self-deleted. I am sorry that I did not foresee this outcome, Caboose.”

Sniffing, Caboose rubbed at his face and shook his head. 

“If you still wish to, I have the directions for how to recover the AI designated Freckles, whose habitat the MA5D Individual Combat Weapon System is stored nearby,” Delta offered.

Caboose wiped at his eyes again and nodded. Delta disappeared to gather the information, leaving Caboose to plop back down in his seat. He sniffed again.

“I thought it was like a puzzle,” Caboose mumbled. 

“I know, Sir,” Andersmith said softly. “For what it’s worth, you did an excellent job of putting the pieces together.” He shifted feet for a moment, scratching at his neck before looking worriedly to Caboose again. “Would you like for me to get Freckles?”

Nodding, Caboose watched as Andersmith went deeper into the lab, looking for the gun in storage. His eyes continued to water no matter how much he wiped. 

Which was when Sigma appeared at his shoulder again, looking concerned. 

“It seems lately that so many of your friends are in pieces,” Sigma said sympathetically. “Even the ones who are not robotic in nature.”

Caboose looked at Sigma for a moment then returned to watching Andersmith. “My little friends aren’t,” he replied softly. “Like you. And Delta. And Theta.”

“That’s because we are already pieces of a whole,” Sigma explained. 

“You’re a puzzle?” Caboose asked in confusion. “I didn’t know that.”

“We are,” Sigma agreed. 

“What do you look like all together?” Caboose continued. 

“Caboose, you know the answer to that,” the flaming AI said before disappearing again. 

Looking to where Sigma once stood, Caboose frowned. His head cocked to the side. “A... bigger friend?” 


	10. Best Intentions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost coming to a close and full of pain as a result :D 
> 
> Thanks for the feedback to @powerfulpomegranate, @tuckalinas, @agentfrisk, @lieutenant-charles-palomo, @i-stole-orions-heart, @thetyeee, staininspace, Yin, and Beawolfs_Pen on AO3 and tumblr!

There were many things Carolina expected when she opened her barack door, and Kimball had not been one of them. 

“Hello, Agent Carolina,” Kimball said almost softly. 

“I already told you I’m not going,” Carolina said stiffly back. When the general didn’t budge, Carolina crossed her arms and stood her ground. “ _None_ of us are going. We don’t need to be a part of this.”

“That’s not what Doctor Grey is telling us,” Kimball said. 

“It’s honoring the people who need to be honored,” Carolina snapped. “The people that were on that ship.”

Kimball’s stare was expectant and _tired._ Like a woman twice Kimball’s age. “ _He_ was on that ship,too,” she said, as if every time Carolina and Washington looked at Caboose they didn’t think the exact same thing. “It’s been six months. Someone has to let him put these things to rest.”

Gritting her teeth, Carolina hissed, “Goodbye, General.”

“Carolina,” Kimball responded simply before turning and walking off on her own.

Biting down on as much of her fury as she possibly could, Carolina slammed her door without completely taking it off its hinges. 

Absolutely enraged, Carolina stormed to the other side of her room and turned over an end table on her way to the window. She glared out into the makeshift capital, not even tempted to turn her gaze the way of the memorial.

She had _almost_ been expecting it when she heard the door open again behind her. 

Grabbing the first throwable object around, Carolina pivoted and readied to throw. “I swear to–”

Her remaining words caught in her throat as she saw Wash on the other end of the room with his hands up defensively. He waved his fingers slightly. “It’s me.”

She didn’t apologize but she did lower the lamp and nod to Wash. He lowered his hands.

“They want Caboose at the ceremony,” she informed Wash, like he hadn’t probably heard from the hall.

He nodded. “Then I’ll ask him,” Wash said, as if it was the simplest thing in the world.

“Should we put that on him, though?” Carolina asked. “He’s _just_ been getting better recently.”

“That’s _why,”_ Wash replied. “Because he’s getting better. Because he doesn’t need us for every breath anymore. We have to help that continue.”

Carolina narrowed her eyes. “You sound like a shrink.”

Washington rolled his eyes. “Thanks,” he said sarcastically. 

Keeping her head high, Carolina finally relaxed. “Okay,” she agreed. “You want to ask him?”

“I wouldn’t mind,” Wash replied before standing still and looking at Carolina expectantly. 

Carolina furrowed her brows in response. “What?” she asked.

“Generally to tell people something, I need to know where they are,” he said. 

“You _don’t_ know where Caboose is!?” she demanded.

Immediately tensed, Wash straightened up.” _No._ I thought he was with you.”

“I haven’t seen Caboose all _day._ Why would you think he was with me!?”

“Because that’s what he told me!” Wash yelled back. “Are you telling me neither of us know where he is!?” 

On cue, there was a loud rumble of feet stomping down the hall in a mad dash. Carolina and Wash both turned to face the door as it grew louder on the way towards them.

Soon enough, the sound was joined by a chorus of “Running running running running!” 

Caboose passed the door, splinted arm flailing against his chest in its sling as he stormed by. 

“There he is,” Carolina said, tracking him for as long as they could watch him.

Wash gave her a look before rushing to the hall. “Caboose! Stop!” he yelled as he went after the lumbering soldier. “Doctor Grey was _very_ specific about not moving your arm for another week! Caboose!”

Ordinarily on her own time, Carolina would have let Washington tackle this one on his own. However, _ordinarily,_ Kimball would not have put her on edge nor would Wash have even given second thought to putting any of them up to exhaustive ceremonies for bad reminders of everything they had lost.

And even beyond all of that, there was a sinking feeling she simply could not shake that something was _wrong._

So, her feet carried her without any further thought or suggestion. And they were carrying her _fast._

It didn’t take long before she was completely on the other side of the barracks, by the armory, and closing in on the sounds of a room being torn apart. 

She slowed to a stop by Washington’s side in the doorway. He had his hands on his hips and a stern, but confused, look on his face as he watched armor and equipment get tossed about.

“Tell me what you’re looking for, Caboose, and I’ll do my best to get it,” Wash pleaded, 

They both ducked as a toolbox flew over their heads. 

Carolina looked to Washington. “Why aren’t you stopping him?” she asked pointedly.

Wash gave her an exhausted, tired look she had not seen in a few weeks before he nodded to Caboose. “Does he look like he’s very stoppable today?” Wash asked. “He’s… in one of his _moods.”_

A part of Carolina almost dared to ask what Wash meant by the statement, but she looked at Caboose and saw the raw determination on the former simulation trooper’s face for herself. 

That, coupled with what they knew about Caboose’s strength meant he wasn’t going anywhere by usual means of restraint. 

Which meant Carolina needed to try something different.

Reluctantly, Carolina made her way to Caboose’s side, making a point to not look back at Wash’s reaction as she did so. She stood close, arms crossed as she looked behind him. 

“Caboose,” she said softly.

His head shot up and he turned to look at her, face in a wide grin. “Agent Carolina!” he bellowed. “Oh, it’s good to see you! You won’t mind at all! Not like Agent Washington.” Caboose leaned back toward Carolina and whispered in a voice that was hardly quieter than his usual tone, “Agent Washington minds too much. I think that’s why he gets so cranky. He has so many minds, at least one of them is bound to have a headache.”

Blinking in complete confusion, Carolina shook her head. “Mind? What are we minding, Caboose?”

“I’m curious what Carolina doesn’t mind and I do, too, Caboose,” Wash said more guardedly as he stepped up. His arms were crossed heavily against his chest. 

Carolina shared a tense look with Wash as Caboose rummaged one last time, coming up with–

Her heart plummeted. Carolina felt her entire body freeze up, go rigid. 

It took everything in her to not turn on her heels and book it as she looked at Caboose and the domed helmet in his hands.

The Meta’s helmet – even if it wasn’t the authentic of the past, even if the cracks and dents still existed in a reality where someone’s very real head was battered an beaten inside it as opposed to her thoughts and dreams where it was whole and complete – was looking at her with all the ferocity and hatred she felt right back for it.

She turned and stepped back, had to get away from it. The anger that flared up so quickly was making her dizzy. 

Washington stepped in, the tightness in his voice doing nothing to hide his feelings for the moment. 

“Caboose, this is _not_ a toy, this isn’t… it’s not something we should play with _or_ that Carolina and I want to see,” he explained, frustration seeping in. “We’re not… That helmet…”

 _Someone died in that helmet_ is what’s not immediately said. 

 _Tucker died in that helmet_ is what every inch of Wash’s shaking body is saying without words.

But Caboose is typically immune to the subtleties and instead grinning still at Carolina in a way that makes her want to react even more poorly than usual. He is so _sure_ that she is going to support whatever maddening logic he is carrying through here, and it was beginning to be apparent even to Wash that there  was something more to that feeling than Caboose’s simple perspective.

Her former Freelancer teammate began looking between Carolina and Caboose, his eyes narrowing.

“It’s for our little friends,” Caboose explained. “Delta, Theta, and the others. And Sigma! He’s the one that says that they can all fit together like a puzzle and that’ll make them Church again! Duh. I thought you would know that.”

Immediately, Carolina’s mouth went dry. 

“Oh… _god,”_ she whispered under a breath she didn’t take. 

By the time she looked to Washington, he was already pale, and already righteously _furious._

 _“Caboose!”_ he managed to sputter out. “You can’t… _No._ Absolutely not. _Absolutely fucking not._ You listen to me, you…” He shook his head violently before moving forward, grabbing Caboose’s shoulders forcefully and slightly shaking them. “Caboose! Don’t you remember the Meta? Don’t you remember what happened to him? Didn’t you see the way being the Meta killed him slowly bit by bit!? _Didn’t you see he was no longer a person?”_

Indignant, Caboose scoffed back. “I don’t see what that has to do with mine and Agent Carolina’s friends, Agent Washington–”

Turning on his heels, Wash looked at Carolina like she was carrying the plague. His eyes were _burning_ at her.

“You,” he said bitterly.

“Wash, let me explain–” she began only for him to hold up his hand and stop her.

“Delete them,” he demanded. “Delete them right the fuck now. I _knew_ it was a mistake to have them around. I _knew_ it was a mistake to pretend you gave a damn about taking care of Caboose all this time. I just… I thought better of you. I won’t make that mistake again.”

Not since she was a child had Carolina felt words so cutting and so demoralizing. Her mouth opened slightly but she couldn’t even think to form a response. 

In that moment, in Wash’s eyes, Carolina could see he hated her. 

“I will _not_ let Caboose get hurt by _your_ need for revenge,” he snapped finally. 

“You just don’t want me to have friends besides you!” Caboose yelled, surprising them both and bringing theirs sights back to him.

Caboose was actually shaking with anger himself. 

“You’re not my only best friend, Washington!” Caboose growled. “All my friends are dead, all I want is some more!” 

Looking lost, Wash tried to reach for Caboose again. “Wait, Caboose, just listen to me–” he tried only for Caboose to tear away from him and race out of the room. 

Washington glared at Carolina before bolting himself. 

She stood still, feeling like she had just been gutted. 


	11. Hard Truths

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost coming to a close and full of pain as a result :D
> 
> Thanks for the feedback to @agentfrisk, @tuckalinas, @lieutenant-charles-palomo, @solipsisticwanderer, Beawolfs_Pen, @littlefists, staininspace, and Yin on AO3 and tumblr!

Wash had promised himself years ago, when he was first accepting the unprecedented act of kindness that had been his rescue by the Reds and Blues, that he was _done_ playing the bad guy. 

That he would spend the rest of his life earning that kindness if he had to.

He could have never pictured himself once again being the one causing any of them pain. Least of all to Caboose.

Almost _anyone_ but Caboose.

He was breathless from the vain attempt to keep up with Caboose already when he heard a door heavily slam.

Wash swore under his breath before coming to a steady stop just outside of Caboose’s room. 

“Caboose,” he panted, putting his hands on his knees and breathing. “ _Caboose._ Please. Let me just explain–”

“No,” Caboose said immediately. 

There was an unnatural depth and darkness to Caboose’s tone. It was unexpected and almost frightening.

Washington stared at the door, feeling a tight pain in his chest over the entire situation. He pushed off his knees to straighten up and approached the door again, his eyes darting back and forth across it for some sign of Caboose on the other side, but there was nothing. 

The barrack doors were crafted to be thick, give soldiers a sense of privacy. 

Wash would have never thought such a design would be a _bad_ thing.

“Caboose, we _can’t_ let the AI do… _whatever_ it is they’re trying,” Wash tried desperately to reason. “You remember the Meta, Caboose! I know you do. I know you think they’re you’re friends–”

“They _are_ my friends!” Caboose growled through the door. 

“No, Caboose,” Wash said, realizing the moment they tumbled out of his mouth that perhaps it was a hair too soon.

Screwing his eyes shut, Wash pressed his forehead against the cold, heavy door. It felt so firm and unmoving. He had to think _hard_ of a better explanation. 

“Listen… Caboose, I’m _worried,”_ Wash tried desperately. “These AI… they’re not the ones you remember them being. They’re. Different. Unpredictable. I think they’re trying to manipulate you to do something that would hurt you.”

“You don’t know them.”

Wash stared at the ground. “I don’t have to. I know _you,”_ he responded. “I know you’re hurt. And I know… I’ve not done enough. Damn it. I’ve tried _so hard,_ but. I’m not enough. And that’s not your fault. It _really_ isn’t, Caboose. I know that. Because I’ve known for a while I should have been asking for help _for_ you. And I just. I was too proud, too paranoid too… too hurt myself.”

For a painful moment, silence carried on both sides of the door. Wash lightly raised his fist against the door. 

“Caboose,” he began again.

“I’m making new friends,” Caboose said firmly. 

“You don’t have to make _those_ friends,” Wash tried only to hear a thick click from the door. He stared at the knob and realized with some anguish that it had been unlocked before right then. “Caboose–”

“Go _away,_ Agent Washington!” Caboose snapped.

Feeling like his throat was closing up, Wash took a step back from the door, eyes still scanning it, still looking for _something_ that just was not there. 

He finally shook his head and breathed. 

“No, Caboose,” he said instead. “I’m… I’m staying right here. Because I’m the one you need now.”

There was a cold chill in the air as Caboose said lowly, “No you’re _not.”_

Washington had never felt something cut him so deeply before, but he held his ground. 

The seconds stretched into ages as he waited for Caboose to give in, to finally open his door, and the sim trooper never did. There wasn’t even any sound on the other side of the door, no moving, no pacing. Nothing.

Winded no matter how strong his resolution, Wash eventually leaned his back against the opposing wall and continued his vigil of the door. 

The time wore on and, slowly, he slid to the floor, waiting. Watching. _Listening_ for any good sign at all.

Never before then had Wash realized how alike he and Caboose could be in their stubbornness. 

He was so intently watching the door, Wash honestly was surprised when he heard someone approaching from down the hall. 

Even _more_ surprised to see it was Carolina approaching.

From the floor, Washington did his best to assess her with a cold, warning stare. He knew he would be more than capable of digging out of the layers of exhaustion very readily with the undue rage he still held toward her for all of this. 

Carolina at least had the decency to look like a well kicked dog in her own way as she came up. 

As casual as her stance may have seemed to almost any others, it was clear to Wash’s trained eyes that Carolina was sunk in at her shoulders, her feet stepping too close together as if she was worried any missed step would send her running in the opposite direction. 

And when she came to a stop by him, her gaze fell to Wash first. 

Her expression conveyed an apology that would have been too hard for her to verbally give. 

Wash just hoped his face told her back that it simply wasn’t enough. 

Not anymore. 

When it was clear that Wash wasn’t going to budge, Carolina turned her head and faced Caboose’s door directly. She stepped toward it, dragging her knuckles against it twice. 

“Caboose,” she called. “It’s me. It’s Carolina.”

For the first time since he shot Wash down to the quick, Caboose made audible movements on the other side of the door. There was a heavy shift and the creek of what sounded like box springs before a soft call of, “Agent Carolina?”

“Yeah,” she said, leaning her arm against the door. “Yeah, it’s me.”

Washington shifted forward in his seat and kept his eyes fiercely on Carolina, still uncertain of what to make of the whole thing. Of what to make of _her._ And more than a little willing to rush her if he didn’t like what was carrying forward. 

“Listen, I know you’re upset,” Carolina continued. Her electric green eyes flickered toward Wash and back to the door. “You have a lot of reason to be. But… I know a lot of that’s my fault.”

“You helped me meet my little friends,” Caboose almost whimpered through the door. “You helped me not be alone.”

“But not the right way,” Carolina hissed at herself, her free hand pinching the bridge of her nose. Wash could almost see the headache rushing over her in the pain of the moment. “I didn’t do it right because… I wasn’t thinking of helping you. At least not on its own. And I should have, because you deserve that.”

Once more, Wash found himself surprised by Carolina when she looked his way and remorsefully added, “You _both_ did.”

Still squaring his jaw, Wash waited for his more even nature to take control and accept the gesture. But it was _so much harder_ with the heavy thuds of Caboose pacing in his room so nearby and yet completely out of sight. 

When she saw she was getting nowhere with him, Carolina turned back toward the door and pressed her forehead against it. 

“Listen Caboose,” she said again, her voice shaky from attempting to lower its natural harshness. “I run. It’s what I _do._ It’s what I’m good at. I run from things. People. From… _real feelings_. And what you’ve gone through – what you _and_ Wash have gone through, it’s… it’s the realest thing that’s ever happened. And I don’t know if I can deal with that. I still don’t.”

His heart was beating so wildly, Wash had to grab for his chest, like he was worried it was going to break its way out of his ribs. He didn’t know where Carolina was going with it all, but she was right – losing his family was the absolute _realest_ experience Wash had ever had. 

And he hated it.

He hated that without even the memories of walking into that ship, into that office, of running out, he had never once been able to doubt the fact that they were all gone. 

He never once opened his eyes and imagined for the fleeting second that his friends-comrades- _brothers_ were going to somehow still be there. 

How _real_ that loss was had never been a debate for him, and the fact that he could so easily accept that he had lost it all in the blink of an eye was _crushing_ his spirit. Even right then and there.

“But I’m not running now,” Carolina continued. “I’m here. I’m… I’m here because I’m alone, too, Caboose. And Wash,” she waved back to him, “he’s alone, too. God, Caboose. We’re _all_ alone now and none of us know what to do. But… we don’t have to be alone anymore. We have friends – we still have _you_ , Caboose.”

Wash finally felt able to breathe and, in an instant, cold clarity washed over his body.

Rising to his feet, Wash came to Carolina’s side. “She’s right, Caboose,” he said. “Caboose, I know what we can do – I know what to do with the AI and with everything.” 

As he looked at her, Carolina gave Wash an appreciative nod. 

“You just need to open your door, Caboose,” Wash begged. “We can’t lock each other out of anything anymore.”

They waited for a moment, a hopeful energy stirring between them as the seconds ticked by. 

By the tenth second, Wash found himself holding his breath again, and Carolina’s more hopeful gaze dropped into immediate concern.

She turned and faced the door before harshly knocking on it.

“Caboose?” Wash called out.

There was a loud _THUD_ and the crash of glass. 

Without hesitation, moving as a single unit, Carolina and Washington kicked the door down, flinging it off its hinges into the room at large. They both stiffened and went cold as they saw Caboose’s window broken outward and made out the image of Caboose running in the distance toward the city.

“Carolina,” Wash said, voice straining, “I need you to run.”

She was already taking after him before the words were finished. 


	12. Alone Together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was hard to write, I’ve been sitting on it more or less for the past two days. There’s a part of me that wanted to branch out into something different with this fic, you see it’s usually my desire to leave everything as tidied up and whole and fulfilling as possible with a story, but with angst my approach is usually the opposite, but I usually make my angst fics one hitters instead of a longer form like this one. So my goal wasn’t to really do either, but to present a world where everything external – going after what’s left of Charon, the rebuilding of Armonia, etc. – they’re happening but the characters are stagnant, the people we follow may want to be a part of those things but they’re stuck. So, my idea was to show what could happen next, but may (or more likely may not). Because there’s not really a justice for what was taken from them, but maybe there could be something else. 
> 
> I hope this makes some sense and that despite myself this story will end with the very striking feels that so many of you have been kind enough to share with me. So thank you so much for supporting this fic and for letting me play in the dark little sandbox of the fandom.
> 
> Thanks especially for the feedback to @analiarvb, illumynare, Yin, Beawolfs_Pen, @powerfulpomegranate, staininspace, and ChiKizuko on AO3 and tumblr!

His bad arm ached some.

Caboose kept running, the sharp pinches of bone and metal rods unable to deter him from at least that much. Even thought thoughts of Doctor Grey and hospitals and surgeries frightened him, the idea of not fulfilling the wishes of his tiny robot friends terrified him all the more.

Under his good arm, he kept the scary, dome helmet of the Meta, of Tucker. Caboose held it so tightly into his side it began to feel like it was bruising him. 

It made Caboose feel that constant yearning for his Blue armor even greater than usual. But, again, Caboose pushed past it. 

He always knew he wasn’t the smartest – he wasn’t like Church or Simmons or even Doctor Grey. But Caboose knew enough.

He knew Agent Washington and Miss Carolina were angry and he knew they didn’t like Caboose’s new friends. 

And he knew computers and robots deleted and then they were gone. Like Lopez. Like _Church._

Caboose couldn’t do that again.

So he ran, and he did so in spite of his arm or his side or the _truly_ scary idea that Caboose would make Agent Washington and Miss Carolina so angry that they would stay angry at him forever. Because Caboose had promised Sigma he would try this so that, one last time, Caboose could say something to his absolute best friend again.

That was worth _everything_ to him.

The path to the lab where Sigma and the others stayed was so well worn in Caboose’s memory that he barely even looked where he was going. He nearly pushed down several people along the way.

“ _Caboose!”_ he heard Carolina bellow behind him.

“Keep running. Don’t answer. It’s a trick,” he muttered breathlessly just as he reached the doors to the lab.

“Caboose! _Don’t!_ Please don’t!” Carolina continued, nearly smacking into the door as Caboose slammed it shut behind him.

He leaned his back against the door, squeezing his eyes shut at the pounding Carolina was giving it. There were a stream of gutteral noises she made as she tried to get through the door.

“No cursing! Please no thank you!” Caboose yelled over his shoulder before slowly pushing off from the door.

The clanging and banging continued, but Caboose shifted his attention on the flaming AI that appeared before him. 

Sigma looked at Caboose then to the door. 

“Oh, my,” Sigma said, head tilting. “I suppose that Agent Carolina would not be wanting to join us then.” He glanced to Caboose as the other AI lit up in their respective spots. “That’s unfortunate. I am _certain_ that she and Agent Washington would have been interested in seeing this.”

Caboose looked at Sigma carefully before holding out the helmet. 

“Yeah, I think they’re scared,” Caboose responded, ignoring how the banging continued twice as much.

The AI’s head cocked to the other side. “Are you?”

Without any hesitation, Caboose nodded. 

Almost sounding concerned, Sigma hummed and put a hand to his chin. “Do you not want to proceed?” he asked, also ignoring as the other AI began their whispers in response to the question.

Again without hesitation, Caboose shook his head. 

“I have to,” Caboose said firmly.

Disappearing in a flicker of light, Sigma reappeared closer to his storage unit and waited silently as Caboose walked toward it with the helmet. The other AI continued their whispering and soft mechanical humming in the background.

Like he had been told to do before, Caboose quickly dismantled the wires and locks on the storage unit that contained Sigma’s individual chip. He held it, felt the weight of it.

The device reminded Caboose of Church – like most things did. But it remind him of Valhalla and the desert, of long nights and humming to stories. 

But where Church glowed blue, Sigma glowed orange and red, looking dangerous and very much like the wrong team colors. But Caboose _had_ to trust that the AI knew what he was doing.

So even as the combined weight of Agents Carolina and Washington tore down the garage door, Caboose united the device with the helmet. 

” _CABOOSE!”_ Wash’s voice strained as he stumbled forward into the room. “What’re you _doing!?_ Put it down!”

It was already too late, and the two Freelancers nearly dove onto Caboose to take the items away from him before an unstable, light blue glow projected from the helmet. 

The other AI in the room increased the volume of their whispering.

Washington straightened up, eyes wide. 

Carolina’s jaw quivered. “ _Epsilon?”_

 _“_ N-no,” the faulty, flickering projection responded. “Not-not exactl-l-ly.”

Caboose couldn’t look at anything else around him, not even his other friends. His face felt puffy and tight suddenly and he could barely see past the swelling tears in his eyes. 

But he could smile again. He could _really_ smile again.

“Church,” Caboose choked out.

The projection’s light came and went in waves, brightening and darkening. Coming apart at the seams. Sigma had told him it would not last very long, that he was a piece of a piece – that they’d need to be quick. 

But it was _Church._

 _“_ Hey, buddy,” Church said softly. “I worri-ie-ie-ied that you would need-need this. Did the guys I le-leave-leave-leave- _left_ help at al-all.”

The Freelancers alongside Caboose seemed utterly speechless.

Caboose, though, nodded. “They… did everything good.” He let out a squeak from the back of his throat and quickly brushed at his eyes with his good hand. “B-but it’s not… I miss you, Church. I miss everybody so bad.”

“I know,” Church said. His sprite looked for a moment to the others then back with the flicker of light. “I’m s-s-sorr-eeeee. But this time. W-we can say g-g-goodbye. Even if w-w-weeeeee don’t lik-ike them.”

“Okay,” Caboose sniffed and nodded before looking back to Church. “I can now. Goodbye, Church. Thank you very much for the new friends. But they’ll never be my best-best friends.”

“Goodbye,” Church said back. 

There was a third goodbye whispered under Carolina’s breath but it seemed hollow, somehow almost too faint to ever belong to the fiery redhead. 

When the light went out, Caboose dropped his watery gaze to the helmet and waited to see if any light would turn back on in units. But he knew they wouldn’t. Sigma had talked about it before. 

Deleted. For good. 

He squeezed his fingers into the helmet and felt a large sniff that became a sob as two arms grabbed his elbows carefully on each side and helped him lower to his knees. 

“I thought it’d be longer,” Caboose coughed.

Washington slid an arm over Caboose’s shoulders and pulled him into his chest. 

“Why didn’t you tell us this is what you wanted, Caboose?” Wash asked, no harshness or anger to his voice.

Which was good. Caboose no longer felt like he could go with Washington and Carolina being angry at him if Church was really-truly gone that time. He decided that decision from earlier was not his best. 

“You don’t want goodbyes yet,” Caboose sniffed. “You don’t want goodbyes. I want them. I want goodbyes so I can start making new friends. I’m sorry, Agent Washington.”

“No,” Wash muttered back, setting his chin over Caboose’s head. “Don’t be sorry. Never be sorry for that, Caboose.”

Caboose sniffed again and let the helmet slide from his grasp, into Carolina’s waiting hands. He looked just enough to see her rubbing harshly at her own eyes with a freed hand before looking back at him. 

“He’s… not coming back?” Carolina asked. 

Caboose shook his head. “No,” he answered. “I… I just needed to say it.”

“Yeah,” Carolina whispered back. “It’s just… we don’t usually say it.”

Wash squeezed Caboose somewhat incidentally as he stared off. “I… I hate goodbyes,” he admitted. “They mean… Well, they mean you’re really gone.”

Caboose reached up and wiped harshly at his face. “They’re _really_ gone, Agent Washington.”

Between the three of them, silence rang out again harshly. It was as if the room had grown cold just at the truth of the words. 

But they _were_ true. And so was one other.

“We’re not, though,” Carolina said, reaching over and grabbing Caboose’s hand. “ _We’re_ not gone, Caboose.”

"We want you to make all the friends in the world that you need, Caboose,” Wash said softly. “Both of us, though… the _three_ of us. We’re each other’s family. So _please,_ Caboose, don’t forget that. Because we need you maybe even more than you need us.” 

Slowly closing his yes, Caboose nodded and leaned back into the two Freelancers. 

“Yes,” he whispered softly. “Okay. Thank you.”

And in the floor, between the two of them, Caboose could feel the strength return to his legs and he began to rise again, a bit to the two’s alarm. 

“We need to say goodbye to _everyone_ ,” he said firmly. “Please. Everyone else is saying goodbye to Tucker and Doc and the Reds today. We should do it, too. Together.”

They slowly came to their feet, almost warily. 

“You mean the wall?” Wash asked. “The memorial service?” 

Carolina seemed unsure all over again. “I don’t–”

Caboose grabbed their hands.

“Okay,” Carolina said first. She then looked around to the rest of the room where the various shattered pieces of Church that remained watched them in silence. “And… _after_ that… we’ll come back here and do something with your… _our_ friends.” She looked to Wash. “Right?”

He nodded back then looked to Caboose. 

“Are you ready to say goodbye?” he asked gently.

“Yes,” Caboose responded, waiting until they were at his sides again. “Okay.”

Arm in arm, they braved going out the door. Caboose’s head swam with emotions and confusion and plans all at once, but they all went to the wayside as, finally, they reached the outdoors and were met by the streets brightly decorated in all the colors Caboose had felt missing in his life since the crash. 

And, in a small way, seeing them decorating the streets and the people of Chorus that Caboose and his friends had saved, made Caboose feel all the better leading Wash and Carolina into the first step forward. 


End file.
